


The Battle Yet to Come

by kabukiza



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cannon, F/M, Reunion, Season 8
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 12:39:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18604714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabukiza/pseuds/kabukiza
Summary: The moments between Arya and Gendry before the battle of winterfell were few, nevertheless each is more important than the last.





	1. The Dragon Queen's Army

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first time actually writing fanfiction, but I'm a massive fan of game of thrones, and have always had AryaxGendry in my heart. I decided to join the hype train after their relationship finally became cannon.
> 
> I enjoy writing, but I'm not terribly good. This is really just some drabbles I've come up with to fill the gaps between Gendry's arrival at Winterfell and their sex scene (finally!). Nothing strays too far from what we actually can watch, but I just wanted to go a little deeper, let myself obsess more.
> 
> Please read and hopefully enjoy! Any comments are beneficial, especially to help my writing.
> 
> I hope to put out a few moments before episode three airs. :)
> 
> Edit: I fixed a few errors, the lovely Gayeld pointed out I mistakenly wrote the Mountian's name instead of the hound. I also realized that I alluded to Gendry's parentage (Robert), however Arya isn't privy to that bit of info yet.

The wind bit at his ears.

Gendry pulled the collar of his cloak up against the cold.  
_Only in times like this do I wish I were back in kings_ landing he thought, shivering.

He followed behind the procession of unsullied and dorthraki, bug eyed townsfolk staring at the passing dragon queen, Daenerys Targaryen, and their King Jon Snow. Ser Sandor Clegane, the hound, rode right ahead, the dwarf Tryion behind in a carriage. He at least found some solace in their presence. Albeit Gendry has spent a limited time with the two, he was now in the north, a southerner surrounded by northern men and traveling with a foreign force. Only the common enemy united them all.

Another gust of wind hit him, more snow pelting his face. His cheeks were bloody frozen, ears not faring any better. Farther north from here the weather was even more severe.

It was hard enough being beyond the wall, facing those… things. Now the war beyond is making its way to his very destination. 

Winterfell, home of the Starks.

He recalled all those years ago when Arya begged him to come with her, join her in Winterfell with her family. At the time the brotherhood without banners felt like they could become a family to him, a place where he could be valued and an equal, no matter his bastard name. Arya Stark, Lady of Winterfell. Nevertheless, he can finally fulfill her wish. He wondered if she ever thought of him, where exactly he went, if he had lived.

He knew Jon Snow, trusted him. He had heard of Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell, and her younger brother Brandon Stark, the deaths of her parents and brothers, but nothing of Arya. Had the lack of news confirmed her death? Or had she managed to find another life across the sea?

Arya had mentioned Winterfell rarely, and only in the most solemn tone. Perhaps it will fulfill her tales.

 

. . .

 

Arya watched as the unsullied marched by.

The streets of the town were lined with it’s townsfolk. She stood with them, viewing the procession as they would.

Sansa had asked Arya to join her and Bran with the other Lords and Ladies in the inner courtyard, to properly greet the Dragon Queen and her half brother Jon. She may now claim the name Arya Stark, but it just didn’t feel quite right.

She had spent so much time as no one, perhaps she could never fully be Arya again, lest be a Lady any time soon. For the meantime, she preferred playing the role of observer.

There was a flash of white, white hair. In the distance sat Daenerys Targaryen on her horse. Stark white hair framed a face as beautiful as rumored. Next to her rode a darker figure. Jon.

They hadn’t seen each other in 7 years. In that time she now saw a man, battle hardened and scarred, but still her beloved brother. Arya wanted nothing but to ruin into the marching army, to his horse and embrace him in joy, a reunion years delayed.

But they had passed, the army advancing. 

Another tall figure made its way through he streets. Someone distinct, a scarred face and large sulking frown. The Hound, Sandor Clegane. He had once been on her list, but their time together had changed her mind. He was not the man she thought he was.

Still, last they had seen each other she left him for dead after his fight with Brienne of Tarth, right before she left to Bravos.

As he rode past she contemplated their reunion and how he would react.

Just past him, she spotted a familiar figure. 

His hair was cropped shorter, shoulders broader than she had remembered. Arya could never forget those eyes, an oddly reminiscent piercing blue. The past 5 years had done him well.

She never expected to see Gendry again, but… he was back, he came back. There was something foreign stirring inside her, a feeling she had never encountered, reminiscent of when she was younger, and more innocent. 

She watched his handsome face, the way he scowled in the cold, eyes trained on the castle ahead. That small feeling buried deep yearned to be with him again, in his company, together. The young Arya would want for nothing but that, but times have changed.

She was not the young girl clinging onto her last hope for family. She had grown up, and so had he.


	2. The Chaos Below

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya gets to the bottom of Gendry's arrival to Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit shorter, just building up to Arya and Gendry finally meeting again.
> 
> I don't quite know how many chapters it will take, most certainty I will not finish this before the third episode airs but I am determined to at least finish this out eventually. I am really enjoying writing out their interactions and any other moments in between.
> 
> I apologise for the many errors in this, I don't have anyone to check over my writing as I usually have and my grammar has been known to be absolutely dreadful. Nevertheless I hope my intentions in this chapter can be understood.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this, I was blown away by the number of people who viewed it, over 1000 already!
> 
> Have a lovely day and please enjoy!

Arya always found the ramparts gave her a good view of the comings and goings in Winterfell.

She had spent enough time up there by now, it was not uncommon for the guards to greet or nod to Arya as they hurried past. But today it wasn’t just the guards running to and fro, all of Winterfell was bustling with the sheer number of visitors. Yet the activity in Winterfell was nothing to the Unsullied and Dothraki camping outside the wall. She turned to survey the hundreds of tents being set up, trenches being dug, and horses picketed. 

Jon and the Queen had already been greeted, doubtless they were now inside making preparations and meeting with Sansa and the other lords and ladies. From the sound of their interaction, Arya was rather glad she had decided to skip out on greeting Queen Daenerys with her sister.

Instead she watched the chaos below.

Servants brought out provisions to be sent to the kitchens, soldiers rushed past with horses, and carts and carts of dragonglass were brought in.

Sansa had told her of Jon’s plans with dragonglass, it was his entire reasoning for the alliance with Queen Daenerys. He had said that when transformed into a weapon, it could destroy white walkers and their wights. So if the army of the dead really are real, as she suspects, then such a resource would be invaluable.

She watched the dark glitter of the stone, it shined in the rare northern sunlight. As a material, dragonglass seemed unlikely to be mass produced into weapons for the thousands of warriors. It was however, a job for a skilled smith, Gendry. 

He was not the only one, she watched as various men came in and out of the smithy dressed in leathers with belts of tools. Her position on the ramparts gave a splendid view of the smithy, the stray hope of catching sight of Gendry once more kept her stationary. He was a skilled smith even when they were traveling together in the south so very long ago, Arya was sure he had never stopped honing his trade over their years apart.

No wonder he had travelled to Winterfell.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, the distinct black hair and powerful frame made it’s way out to the courtyard. Gendry approached the carts, surveying it’s contents and issuing orders to the servants transporting them. 

Yes, it was still him. He really came.

That same feeling, the strange instinct within her rose up again. It implored Arya to run down the battlements, to greet Gendry, pull him aside and tell him of all her adventures, good and bad. If he truly knew who… what she was would he push her away again? Would he be too unsettled to even be in her presence, afraid as Sansa had once been? Or would he take it in stride, accepting their pasts as the past and share his own. Nevertheless she wanted to embrace him, joke as they once did, talk by the fire, do anything to be with him again.

It was intoxicating, the never ending pull.  
A feeling she worked hard to quell, and stamped it out with all her might, even as it refused to truly go.

However she had more imporatnt matters to attend to. Jon had arrived, it was high time they met again.


End file.
